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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876333">that sad look on your face</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NBvagabond/pseuds/NBvagabond'>NBvagabond</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Parent Death, Song Lyrics, just a lot of jon thinking about his partners and emotions</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 08:47:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>840</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22876333</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NBvagabond/pseuds/NBvagabond</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He continued to stroke Martin's hair, soothing and repetitive for both of them. He watched a tear roll its way slowly down Tim's cheek, and wished, not for the first time, that he knew how to help people who's problems weren't Fear related.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>that sad look on your face</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Title is from Shut Your Eyes, by Keegan DeWitt, and it's the song Tim sings in this.<br/>Parental death is only minorly mentioned</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Martin's head was a solid weight in Jon's lap, shuddering slightly every time he sobbed. Jon stroked his hair, as soothingly as he knew how. He wasn't exactly the most proficient with dealing with emotions - none of them were, really - so when they eventually talked about all of this he probably wouldn't be much help. But for now, he could stroke Martin's hair and remind him that he wasn't alone.<br/>
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tim sit down on the coffee table. He hadn't even noticed him get up, but apparently he'd gotten his guitar at some point. Jon offered him a small, grateful smile, but Tim didn't look up from Martin.<br/>
He started to play, a quiet strumming that Jon hadn't heard before. It sounded almost like a lullaby.</p><p><em>"Anything I say couldn't take the pain away, but it might help you to sleep somehow."</em> Tim sang, voice rough and shaking, ever so slightly.</p><p>Jon watched his boyfriend's - no, boyfriend felt so immature, like they were just teenagers trying things out. It didn't convey all the weight, what they'd faced together, how they felt about each other. Lover, perhaps, despite the implications that Jon had no interest in - his lover's face as he sung, gazing down at Martin with an expression that would have been unreadable just a few months ago. Now, Jon could see all the little details.</p><p>
  <em>"I know it's just a lie and how they say to wait on time, but that's no use to you right now"</em>
</p><p>The hard frown of his eyebrows in concern, the soft, sad shine in his eyes that held back his own tears. The way he bit his lip in between lines as he remembered the next chord. The way his jaw twitched every time Martin sobbed, the anger - not towards Martin, not really towards anyone, but just towards the simple fact that someone he cared about was hurting.</p><p>
  <em>"But somehow in the evenin' when you can't escape the feelin' and you're far away"</em>
</p><p>Jon definitely understood that feeling. He had felt it often, in the Archives. When Martin had been trapped by Peter. Daisy in the Buried, Melanie's leg, and then her eyes. Sasha. Tim, and his suicide mission against the Stranger.</p><p>
  <em>"Sleepin' doesn't even help when dreaming is them leaving. Or coming back someday."</em>
</p><p>Jon didn't know if he'd ever be able to put into words just how fucking relieved he was that Tim came back from the Unknowing. That Martin let him guide him out of the Lonely. That they were by his side when eyes had split across the sky like a thousand torn seams. That they had stayed.</p><p>
  <em>"Oh, shut your eyes, calm your mind, just give it time."</em>
</p><p>Martin was quieter, now. His breathing was steadier, and the sobbing less pronounced. Perhaps Jon had been right, when he'd thought it sounded like a lullaby. He continued to stroke Martin's hair, soothing and repetitive for both of them. He watched a tear roll its way slowly down Tim's cheek, and wished, not for the first time, that he knew how to help people who's problems weren't Fear related.</p><p>
  <em>"It ain't right, it's no use to fight it, just give it time."</em>
</p><p>It took Jon a long moment of silently stroking his now sleeping lover's hair before he properly realised Tim had stopped playing.<br/>
"Are you alright?" he whispered, after another long moment. Tim was still clutching the guitar, and Jon could see it digging a thin red line into his thigh. He finally looked up.<br/>
"Yeah. 'Course." he said unconvincingly.<br/>
"Tim."<br/>
"Jon, I'm fine, I'm not - I'm not the one who's mum just died, am I?" Tim said, even more unconvincingly now Jon watched his fists clench, knuckles white against the dark wood of the guitar. For a moment, Jon saw the scared, angry young man he once thought was all Tim was - the same fury and vitriol he'd watched him bring into the circus, so sure he wouldn't come out again. And then, just like in the Unknowing, he watched Tim let it slip away. Hatred was replaced with exhaustion, fear with an openness that still surprised Jon. It was uncomfortable, perhaps, to see this side of Tim, but it was like the burn of a hot shower. Such a relief, as well.<br/>
Tim let out a long, shaking breath. "I wrote that for… for Danny. When our parents died." the tear track on his cheek was quickly joined by more when he started to talk, voice cracking.<br/>
Jon reached out his hand, trying not to move the sleeping man in his lap. Tim gripped it hard. Jon was stretched uncomfortably, twisted in his seat, but he would hold like this for as long as they needed him. This was nothing. Jon would hold Martin and Tim at his side until the Extinction crumbled the world around them, until their last breaths. The Stranger and the Lonely cannot have these ones, he has said. He will always find them again.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>chapter two will have, like. actual conversations between these three about feelings and stuff<br/>Tell me ur favourite lines and I'll love an cherish u forever!<br/>I'm also on tumblr @nbvagabond</p></blockquote></div></div>
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